


I've Made the Mistake of Loving You

by MsBlam



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Everybody Lives, Gen, Mandalorian Culture, We love to see Jango getting his ass in gear and saving the clones, more character tags to be added - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:42:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 16,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29461464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsBlam/pseuds/MsBlam
Summary: "Unfortunately decommissioned"The words don't change no matter how hard Jango begs them to.He won't believe it. Can't. This can't be happening.
Relationships: Boba Fett & Jango Fett, Jango Fett & Clone Troopers, Jango Fett & Responsibility
Comments: 157
Kudos: 307





	1. Jango Fett

**Author's Note:**

> Mando'a words:  
> Ka'ra: stars - ancient Mandalorian myth - ruling council of fallen kings  
> Kaminii: Kaminoan

The message pings his comm as soon as he drops out of hyperspace above Kamino. Jango absently opens it to read as the autopilot takes care of reentry.

He has to read it again.

Again.

The words don’t change no matter how hard he begs them to.

_Nononono-_

The message is sickeningly normal for all the content deliver a blow cruel enough to make Jango consider turning off the heatshields and letting himself burn up in the atmosphere.

_“Administrative error”_

But he has to see for himself. He won’t believe it without seeing for himself.

_“Incorrect identification”_

He doesn’t notice the rain. He doesn’t notice how the hallways are empty.

_“Our deepest apologies”_

Jango does notice how the air smells stale in the apartment like no one has been here for weeks.

“Boba!” Jango’s voice cracks. 

_“Unfortunately decommissioned”_

He forces himself to walk deeper into the apartment.

“Boba!” He calls again praying to every god he’s ever heard of.

There are dirty dishes in the sink. A pile of clean but unfolded cloths on the couch. Dust that has settled and not been disturbed again. Boba’s room is even worse. There is a half-eaten bowl of something gone moldy. Datapads strewn about Boba’s bed like he had tossed them there on his way out but never come back.

“Boba!” He tries one more time. The name gets caught in his throat next to the bitten off sob.

_Whywhywhywhywhywhy_

Why did everyone he loved always die?

What sin did he commit that was so atrocious the Ka’ra demanded the life of his son?

His son, his baby, his everything.

Why?

Jango is drowning. His blood has gone cold in his veins and it’s like Galidraan all over again. His entire world is dead and he is all alone again.

All because of a _mistake._

His baby put down like an animal because of a _mistake_.

It won’t me a _mistake_ when Jango burns this entire city to the ground.

The _Kaminnii_ took everything from him, Jango will return the favor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was born out of some other stuff I already have written with some cute fluff between Jango and some of the clones. I was like 'what would really make Jango reevaluate how he sees the clones?’ and here we are. This is def not a story that is going to get done any time soon, but I have an idea where it is going and will post each chapter when I have something polished enough.


	2. Tup

Tup had made a mistake. Tup had made a lot of mistakes actually, but today he made one too many. Today he got caught.

The restraints of the medical table are cold against his skin and he struggles with everything he has to break free.

Nala Se looks at him with cold dispassionate eyes even as she readies the reconditioning drugs. A droid that looks nothing like a medical droid hovers next to the cot threateningly. He’s pretty sure most medical droids don’t have that many sharp arms on them. 

Tub hates himself for it but he begs anyway.

“Please! It was a mistake! Please! I won’t do it again!”

It was a lie. He would do it again. If it meant less of his brothers would be decommissioned for failing scores then he would do whatever it took. Modify the trainer’s reports, smuggle his brothers into the vents, anything.

He just hopes there will be enough of his mind left after this that he can.

“No. I don’t expect you will.” Nala Se agrees. In one smooth motion the syringe is emptied into the IV line.

Tup feels it hit his blood. It’s cold. So painfully cold, but he can’t shiver. His limbs have turned to lead and it can’t even hold his head up. It’s trying to drag him under, like his eyeballs are bleeding backwards into his skull and down his spine. His entire world has narrowed down to just trying to breath.

The droid buzzes closer, arms extended. Electricity arcs between two of the needles and Tup understands exactly what is going to happen.

They’ve already been though their interrogation units. They already know how to withstand torture.

Rank and designation. That all you can give to the enemy.

Tup realizes, after this, his rank and designation is all he’s going to be.

“It was just a mistake.” He tries one last time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Tup. You could argue that the reconditioning is why his inhibitor chip malfunctioned in canon and that was my rational for choosing Tup. But don’t worry, Jango is looking for the old hag Nala Se and you can guess he’s going to find her very soon.  
> Thank you for the kudos and the comments! I was so excited by them I hurried up and edited this chapter so I could post it the same day lol Because it’s looking like the POV will jump back and forth between characters the chapters will probably be consistently short. Not my favorite way to write but this story is just looking like one of those things.


	3. Jango Fett

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a words:  
> demagolyc - adjtive of demagolka- someone who commits atrocties, a real-life monster, a war criminal - from the notorious Mandalorian scientist of the Old Republic, Demagol, known for his experiments on children, and a figure of hate and dread in the Mando psyche  
> haran - hell - literally, destruction, cosmic annihilation  
> ik’aad - baby, child under 3  
> ad - son or daughter, child

Finding Nala Se is easy. The junior scientist he corners in the main laboratory is more than happy to help him once Jango make it clear that he will find the long neck one way or another, and he doesn’t mind collateral damage in the slightest.

The old hag is in the ‘reeducation’ room below the main lab and -

Jango hears the screams and –

It sounds just like Boba.

Nala Se dies too easily. Those delicate fish bones of hers break too easily in his hands. Those eyes wide with pain pop too easily under his thumbs. Her filthy green blood covers his arms to the elbows and it’s _not enough_.

It will never be enough.

Boba is _dead_ and _nothing_ will never be enough ever again.

Boba whimpers –

Jango’s head snaps up at the noise and it’s _not_ Boba. It’s just a clone.

The cadet is strapped to the cot, interrogation droid hovering over his chest with it’s needles sunk into the clone’s neck.

The clone who looks only a little younger than Boba had been.

Jango suddenly remembers that with the accelerated aging the clone can only be three at most.

Three years old.

The writhing sickness inside of him bubbles up as bile in his throat.

He carefully pulls out all the needles before he throws the droid into the wall. It shatters apart and lays on the floor like a crushed insect.

Next he takes out the IV, his stomach only turning further at the yellowish liquid filling the tube. Glassy eyes watch him unseeingly and Jango catches the near silent mantra the clone is whispering to himself.

_“It was a mistake, I won’t do it again.”_

Jango is going to sink this entire city into the sea. He’s going to kill every one of the _Kaminnii_ with his bare hands.

The clone does nothing more than try to curl in on himself when Jango pops open the restraints. That thing in his gut twists again when he notices the clone’s wrists are bruised and raw.

Carefully, ever so carefully Jango picks the boy up and settles the boneless form on his hip. His head falls to Jango’s shoulder and the warm puffs of air at his throat hurt. It twists the knife in his heart and for a breathless moment Jango can forget everything and pretend he’s holding Boba again.

_“It was a mistake, I won’t do it again.”_

But Boba had never sounded like this. Never begged over and over for mercy that wouldn’t be given.

Maybe he had. Maybe Boba had sounded desperate and afraid before they had killed him. Begging for Jango to save him. Jango wonders if Boba hated him when he didn’t come.

“Shhhshhhshhh, It’s all right. I have you _ik’aad_. I have you.” Jango whispers rocking them back and forth.

Jango feels like he’s dying. Jango wishes he was dead. Wishes this was all a bad dream and he will wake up to Boba excitedly yelling at him to get up and fix breakfast. Jango would give anything for this all to be a bad dream.

It has to be a bad dream because how else could Boba be _dead_? In what reality could something so horrific happen to his son? His _ad_? How could they kill his _ad_ over a _mistake_?

_“It was a mistake, I won’t do it again.”_

But the answer is in his arms, isn’t it?

This place, this _demagolyc haran_ , it was the reason.

 _Jango_ was the reason.

This is Jango’s fault.

This is all Jango’s fault.

He’s still rocking them back and forth, shifting from one foot to another with a little half hop that without fail always seemed to calm Boba down when he was little. Nala Se’s blood has pooled around her head, staining the white floor green. The hum of the lights over head is loud in the silence. The silence only interrupted by the boy in his arms.

_“It was a mistake, I won’t do it again.”_

Jango had a plan before he burst into this lab. Kill every _Kaminnii_ that had a hand in Boba’s death. Make them suffer. Tear apart their cloning machines that they are so proud of. Destroy all their work –

Jango wonders when revenge became the only thing he ever thought of.

Jango wonders if Jaster would still love him after everything he’s done. If his _buir_ would be proud or ashamed.

It isn’t even a question. Jango knows.

“It was a mistake, I won’t do it again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be the last one for the day and for a little while. I feel like this is a good place to leave it be for now and lets everyone know the direction this fic is going.


	4. Jango Fett

Nala Se’s personal lab is just down the hall from the reeducation center. Of course it is. More predictably the door opens with a press of the scientist’s severed hand. The _Kaminnii_ do so love their biometric security, yet they always fail to taken into account that it can be stolen so easily.

Maybe it’s because they think themselves above violence, above the blood and the gore that they inflict on their creations without a thought.

Maybe they think no one would _dare_ violate them in such a way. They live in their sterile domes shut away from the raging storm of their own planet and isolated form the rest of the galaxy and never even _think_ that they could be victim of the same barbarism they consider every other being tarnished with.

They think their cloning is an _art_.

And in some ways, it is.

Boba was worth more to Jango than any credit or jewel could ever be. When he’d held his son in his arms the first time it had been more than just art, it had been a miracle. A gift from the _Ka’ra_.

But the _Kaminnii_ were fickle and ‘perfection’ was the only outcome they thought worthy of existence.

And for that they killed everything they saw as flawed.

Killed or _reconditioned_.

The cadet in his arms is still whispering to himself but more quietly now. He’s stared shaking, little fingers weakly finding their way into the gaps in Jango’s armor to hold on. Jango hopes it is a sign that whatever drug they had given him was wearing off.

Working one handed isn’t something he’s struggled with since those first few months with Boba. It’s second nature now to juggle the severed hand and the data stick with the weight of a child on his hip.

Nala Se’s data files are just as meticulously organized as he would expect, not that it matters right this second. Jango is taking everything. Every report, every memo, every note scribbled in a margin. Every single _Kaminnii_ name that ever even breathed in the general direction of the decommissioning process.

Or the reconditioning lab.

Jango will find them all.

But first the cadet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you!!! I promise I've been reading all your comments and they make me so hyped I was like 'I can answer them and tell them each how much it means to me or I can show them by posting another chapter'. I figured you guys would like another chapter better lol I might even have a couple more I can polish up and post tonight lol


	5. Mij Gilamar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a words:  
> Haat'ade- Abbreviation of the True Mandalorians faction meaning 'True Children'

Mij is wondering if he can bluff Kal and Rav into betting a few more credits this round when the last person he expects darkens the doorway.

Jango.

Jango Fett holding a cadet and covered in _Kaminnii_ blood.

Jango Fett who only says two words.

“Help him.”

The table is cleared with a sweep of Rav’s arm even as Mij is out of his seat and running to grab his medicase. When he gets back to the living room the cadet is already on the table and Mij wastes no time pulling out his medical scanner but even as it does its job Mij notes the more obvious signs of distress.

The cadet’s pulse is so rapid he can see it beating at his throat, right next to needle marks that have already started to bruise. When Mij checks his pupils they are blown so wide there is hardly any iris visible. Shallow breathing. Nonresponsive to the environment.

The scanner beeps and Mij checks the information.

Oxygen saturation good, temperature high, blood pressure high, pulse high, heartbeat irregular –

Mij gets to the blood work and snarls quietly to himself.

Psilocyton, Morphicept, Nevpilocine.

Hallucinogen paired with a muscle relaxant and an antiviral that is known cause severe peripheral neuropathy as a side effect when interacting with Litotall, an ingredient in the Morphicept. Everything in a dosage meant for someone three times the cadet’s weight.

Lowering the cadet’s heartrate is first, then Mij can figure out if the arrhythmia will correct itself on its own or if he will have to shock it back into rhythm. A pacemaker in the worst case. Hectolin to counteract the Nevpilocine. The hallucinogen – that’s going to have to wear off on its own, but Mij can give him Olmenisome to lower the raised heartrate caused by it.

Mij sets the scanner aside and sets up the EKG and slips the biocuff on the cadet. The readings pop up on his medicase’s interface screen and Mij checks to make sure there is nothing else he is missing. He lines up the biocuff and tabs the command to engage the IV needles.

The cadet whimpers, a litany of _‘It was a mistake, I won’t do it again.’_ falling out of his mouth even as he tries to pull away from Mij weakly.

“Shhhshh, it’s all right. Just a little pinch.” Mij sooths, rubbing his thumb across the cadet’s wrist right above the cuff to hopefully distract from the needles going in. It thankfully calms the clone. He stops whispering those awful words at least.

Mij loads the medications into the medicase’s IV ports and sets the drip rates.

With a nod to himself Mij looks up to take stock of the room.

Jango is stone faced and grim standing at the foot of the table, watching the clone unblinkingly. Rev is gone and Kal is standing on the other side of the table with his back to the living room. Mij figure he’ll be the one to break the silence.

“What happened?”

Mij’s not sure what he expects the answer to be, but little gods above and below, he doesn’t expect it to be –

“They killed my son.”

The silence sounds like screaming.

“Which one?” Kal asks, pitiless.

Jango’s head snaps up, face twisted into something feral and ugly.

Kal is ready when Jango lunges at him.

Mij grabs the table and drags the entire thing out of the way, cadet and all, in the off chance one of the men gets thrown in their direction. The boy whimper at the noise or maybe the motion of being moved so unexpectedly. Mij shushes him, laying a hand against his chest to stop him trying to roll away. He hums the first tune that comes to mind and hopes it helps.

One of Mij’s lamps gets shattered as Kal throws Jango into his side table. The table itself goes next when Kal kicks out one of its legs and sends Jango to the carpet. Kal gets his legs swept out from under him in retaliation and then the two Mandalorians are scuffling on the floor.

The cadet whimpers again, head turned towards the noise of the shuffle and Mij growls under his breath in frustration.

The kid doesn’t need this.

Mij picks the _ad_ up carefully, dips and grabs the handle of his medicase with his fingers and heads to his bedroom.

There is a dull _thump_ of what he assumes is the couch being overturned before the door slides shut between them and the racket.

“Set lights to forty percent.” He says as he sets the clone on his cot. Some of the tightness at the corner of the clone’s eyes eases as the lights go dim.

The medicase goes on his nightstand. The blanket at the end of the bed goes over the cadet. Mij goes at the foot of the cot, back against the wall, hand on the cadet’s ancle so he knows Mij is still there.

He assumes his entire living room is a casualty to the two Mandalorians and settles down to wait for the cadet’s system to work though the drugs.

Kal isn’t a cruel man and Mij knows he cares for Jango. That Kal has known Jango since before the _Haat’ad_ were killed. Mij isn’t sure why he answered Jango’s grief with scorn but Mij will trust that Kal knows what he’s doing.

In the meantime, Mij has a patient to look after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moving and grooving my dudes. Some of the Cuy'val Dar making an appearance and you know it's gotta be Kal at the very least. I'mma have to update the tags probably. Also I think it's pretty clear but I don't know shit about medicine so jot that down. Hopefully it sounded convincing lol


	6. Jango Fett

“Which one?”

The question makes something snap in Jango’s chest.

He lunges at Kal and gets thrown into a table for the predictability of the move.

Jango knows, he _knows_ what he let happen to his clones was wrong. They were children, contract or no. He should have watched them more closely. Jango knew what the _Kaminnii_ did to clones that had failing scores and insubordinate attitudes. Maybe not in so many words but Jango knew enough to guess. Just because he had never asked and they had never told him wasn’t an excuse. Letting the _Kaminnii_ treat them like mindless things was _wrong_. Jango could accept that.

Jango _couldn’t_ accept that the clones where his –

Because if he did –

If he admitted it –

Jango thinks of Alpha-17 and Tavo. Of Maze and Fordo. Of all one hundred of his boys that are so much more than just _clones_. Of how carefully Jango has to be around them to not –

Not to let himself love them.

Kal has him in a choke hold by now. Jango isn’t going to give. At least if he’s unconscious the sick feeling in his chest will stop.

Kal isn’t that kind.

He lets Jango go just as his vision is about to go dark and Jango heaves a breath that turns pathetic and shaky from one gasp to another.

He can’t do this right now. The _Kaminnii_ that killed Boba are still alive and he _can’t do this right now_.

But Kal’s arm is around his chest now and Jango can’t get away. His next breath comes out ugly.

“I got you, _ad_. I have you. Just breath.” Kal sooths and it’s like Jango is fourteen again and Kal is holding him together after they buried Jaster.

It had helped then, it doesn’t now.

Nothing will help now.

Jango snarls at the older man but it just sounds like a wounded animal.

“Let go- “ Jango spits trying to break away. He almost succeeds but Kal somehow grabs him again and this time Jango’s face is pressed into the old man’s shoulder so hard Jango wonder’s if Kal is trying to smother him.

“No.” Is all Kal says, infuriatingly steady.

“They killed Boba.” He snarls with all the hate he has in him. Punches Kal in the side like it will make him understand. His knuckles only meet _beskar_ and the pain is welcome if only because it is so little compared to the aching pit in his chest.

“They killed my son.” Maybe his voice is closer to a whimper than a snarl but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters, his son is dead. Dead dead dead like all the other clones Jango hadn’t cared about. All the clones Jango had ignored because if he let himself care about them that meant they were his –

“They killed my sons.”

Jango slams his fist into the _beskar_ again and again until he feels the bones in his hand break.

“They killed my sons and I _let_ them.”

The fingers threaded through his hair tighten and Kal uses the grip to give Jango a rough shake.

“So what are you going to do about it, _Mand’alor_?” Kal demands.

The title feels like an insult and Jango hates Kal for it.

He knows exactly what Kal wants him to do and Jango hates him for that too.

The words _I can’t_ are just at the tip of Jango’s tongue but he’s never said the words before and he won’t say them now.

All Jango wants to do is kill the _Kaminnii_ that are responsible for killing his _ade_ , sink this city into the ocean and never look back. He can’t leave the clones here and there is nowhere else to go except –

“Fine.” Jango snarls sharply, pulling away form Kal so he can look the man in they eye. Kal doesn’t look smug, only heartsick.

Jango remembers how hard Kal had to fight to save the Null troopers. Remembers how close Kal had to keep them those first few years for fear they would disappear into a lab and not be seen again.

Yes, Kal is trying to manipulate him, but Jango can’t blame him. Can’t even find it in himself to be angry about it.

Kal just wants a better life for his sons.

Jango wants the same.

“Fine.” He says again, less bitter this time.

“Fine, we’re going home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ouch lol but now you know where the fic is headed. Fuck Kamino lol


	7. Rav Bralor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a words:  
> Mand'alor- sole ruler  
> Mando'ade- children of Mandalor, what Mnadalorians call themselves
> 
> I realize I'm not putting every single Mando'a word up here each time and I'm sorry about that. I try to put them up here if I'm using them for the first time, but if I ever forget I usually am pulling from mandoa. org or from the Mando'a wiki page.

Rav isn’t part of the _Haat’ade_. She doesn’t recognize Jango Fett as the _Mand’alor_ and she doesn’t swear any loyalty to him beyond their connection as _Mando’ade_.

That being said, when Jango burst into Mij’s apartment demanding help, covered in _Kaminnii_ blood and holding a cadet in his arms, Rav could acknowledge that was what she expected the _Mand’alor_ to look like. The Jango from tonight looked like the man Kal always told stories about.

Rav can admit she wishes she could have seen the True Mandalorians before Galidraan.

Maybe that’s why she let’s Kal bully her into this little errand.

The lights have dimmed to the night cycle now, hopefully that meant most of the people she was looking for would be in their apartments.

Twenty-three names.

Twenty-three out of thousands.

Grief that isn’t really hers wraps around her chest.

It was such a shame.

She sticks her head in Tay’haai’s apartment, surprised that the door is unlocked. Tay’haai is seated at his table with two other trainers, Eba Tac and Gamal Orvo, who seem to be in the middle a card game of their own.

Orvo wasn’t on Kal’s list but Tac is. Rav figures Tac and Tay’haai wouldn’t associate with the loose lipped type so she delivers Kal’s message regardless.

“Your _Mand’alor_ calls. Gilamar’s apartment at O one hundred standard.” She dutifully announces.

Tay’haai is on his feet in an instant, something pained and hopeful on his face. He swallows hard before he finds his voice.

“Understood.”

Rav leaves them to it.

Before she can even make it ten steps Tac is striding up next to her.

“You going to get everyone else?” She asks, dispite the answer being pretty obvious. Rav wordlessly pulls up her gaultlet’s holo display with the names Kal had given her. Tac studies it for a moment before speaking.

“Take Yachu off, he renounced Jango. You can add Lato and Xarma, they married in.”

Rav raises an eyebrow at the news. She hadn’t realized Xarma and Ugo had finally tied the knot. If she’s honest she doesn’t even know who Lato got hitched to but Rav supposes they will see later tonight. Shame about Yachu though. Rav likes him.

They split up the list of names and set off to find their quarry.

Again and again Rav sees that same painful hope that had been on Tay’haai’s face. Like every one of them had been waiting for this exact moment for the last half decade.

Twenty-three names out of thousands.

Well, counting the loss and the additions it will be twenty-four.

Twenty-five if Jango manages to impress her.

She’s sure Kal will be insufferable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not exactly happy with this chapter but it is what it is. I'm not sure what I'm going to do with Rav yet but I def want to flesh out her character, I couldn't find much on her. A lot of OC names in this chapter too, but not to worry if you're not a fan of that sort of thing, neither am I. I'll most def be focusing on canon characters and working with what is already there for the most part. Stay tuned for another chapter tonight.


	8. Mij Gilamar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a words:  
> cyar’ika - darling, sweetheart  
> di’kut - idiot  
> Shig - beverage - any infusion of whatever's available, but usually a mildly stimulant herb with a citrus flavor called behot  
> Su cuy'gar-Hello - lit. *You're still alive.*

The first sign that the cadet is becoming more lucid is a miserable whimper and a facial expression that has Mij wishing the damn _Kaminnii_ knew the utility of a good trash bucket rather than installing the stupid wall chutes in every room.

Mij doesn’t even attempt to get the kid to the refresher. By how gray his face has gone, they don’t have time. Instead Mij helps him lean over so he doesn’t get sick all over himself.

It was an ugly rug anyway.

The cadet gives a pained sob between heaving and it twists something in Mij’s chest.

He has one arm holding the cadet up and the other soothing circles over small shoulders. Mij has done this a hundred times for patients and he never stops feeling sorry for whoever is going though the ordeal, but for some reason it hurts Mij more this time.

The cadet heaves until he’s gagging on nothing but bile. Mij winces a he hears it go up the cadet’s nose.

Mij doent’ have anything on hand that won’t react with the other drugs in the kid’s system but he wishes that he did.

The gagging subsides and Mij unhooks the IV lines from the biocuff. The medicine has run out at least, only the saline drip still partly full.

Mij tugs off one glove with his teeth and uses his hand to clear as much of the snot and bile on the cadet’s face away from his mouth and nose as he can before pulling the kid up into his arms and heading for the fresher. Mij kicks the sensor that activates the little cleaning droid in under his desk as he goes.

He sets the _ad_ on the edge of the sink and washes his hand, pulling down a small towel and wetting it with the warm water.

The kid’s eyes are half lidded with exhaustion but he leans into the warmth of the towel as Mij cleans his face. Mij rewets the towel and gets the kid’s neck and arms while he’s at it to clean off the cold sweat. Shiver’s wrack the cadet’s frame even as he slumps harder into Mij, unable to keep himself sitting up.

“Hurts” the cadet says softly. Mij almost misses it under the sound of the tap. Almost.

Mij never knew a single word could hurt more than a blaster bolt to the chest but he does now.

“I know, _cyar’ika_. I know. Just hold on.” He sooths and hating himself for not being able to do more than that.

There is no gaping wound he can sew up, no surgery he can perform. All they can do is wait and do everything he can think of to make it less awful for the kid.

He pulls down a full-sized towel and wraps it around the cadet trying not to jar him too much in the process.

“What’s your name, _ik’aad_?” Mij asks hoping to give the cadet something to focus on besides how awful he must feel.

He doesn’t expect the question to make the _ad_ start crying. His face crumples into something scared and miserable.

“Clone cadet CT-5385.” He gets out past the shuddering breaths. Breaths that are rapidly moving towards hyperventilating.

“It was a mistake, I won’t do it again.” He promises desperately. Mij feels weak hands grab onto his shirt and tug like the cadet is trying to get him to listen.

“I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.” He begs.

Mij feels his eyes sting.

He can’t do anything but wrap the clone up in his arms.

“Shhh, you don’t have to be sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong.” He whispers into the peach fuzz at the cadet’s temple.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, _ik’aad_. I won’t hurt you.”

Whoever Jango killed is lucky they are already dead.

“Just hold on, I know it hurts. Just hold on.”

The cadet doesn’t stop crying and Mij doesn’t know what to do.

Mij wishes Tani was here. She was always better with _ade_. Always knew just what to do to calm them down or make them laugh. He remembers Tani holding her sister’s toddler on her hip and turning to look at him with a smile.

 _“Think we could handle a couple of these?”_ She questioned jokingly.

Mij doen’t know why he’s thinking of that right now.

 _“Talk to them, not at_ _them,_ di’kut. _They aren’t stupid, they understand.”_

Tani was always better at this, but Mij will try his best.

“Tell me what you need, _cyar’ika_.” He tries.

The question gets a bigger sob as an answer but then the next almost sounds like a word. Mij waits, running his hand up and down the clone’s back. The words are garbled but Mij manages to get the words _cold_ and _stomach hurts_ out of the mess.

The cold probably from the IV drips and the stomach pain is self explanatory.

“Do you think you could drink something warm?” 

That would help with the chills, and even if it does make the _ad_ sick again, throwing up with something in your gut is better than heaving bile.

The cadet is quiet for a moment before nodding.

Okay. Good. This is something Mij can do.

The droid isn’t finished cleaning up the floor so he just takes the cadet with him to the kitchen. The only thing worse than puking is having to smell it afterwards.

Before he steps out of the room, he pulls the towel over the kids head like a hood to block out the light form the living area. The door slides open and –

There are people in his house.

He’s going to kill Kal. This has to be his fault.

Whatever, Mij has more important things to worry about than wondering why there are two extra couches jammed into his living room and countless chairs besides.

His kitchen has _more_ people in it, and worse yet that jackass Tay’haai is there waving a ladle around like he owns the place.

“It’s not supposed to be sweet you fu-“ He is saying when Mij cuts him off.

“What are you doing here.” He snarls at the other Mandalorian. It comes out more as a threat than a question.

Without waiting for an answer Mij shoves his way to the stove and sniffs the pot Tay’haai had presumably been stirring. The tang of _behot_ hits his nose along with something earthy.

Tay’haai is hovering at his shoulder, and Mij hanks the spoon out of his hand and dips some of the _shig_ out of the boiling pot. He blows on it a moment to cool before tasting it. Rich without being heavy, not so acidic to be hard on the stomach, enough salt to restore some lost electrolytes.

“Good.” He decides out loud, Impatiently holding the ladle out for Tay’haai to take.

Orvo scrambles out of his way as Mij turns his glare on the man. Mij grab a cup and spoon out of the cabinets and turns back to the _shig_.

He only has one hand and he’s not putting the cadet down around these idiots, so he shoves his cup towards Tay’haai.

His lips peel back in another snarl as Tay’haai smiles at him. It’s a nice smile, but on the man’s face Mij only wants to punch it off.

Mij takes the _shig_ and the _ad_ and plants himself in the farthest corner of the living room. He aggressively ignores everythign else going on in _his_ apartment. If someone so much as _breaths_ wrong in their general direction Mij is going to pull his blaster and start shooting.

An armchair that is most definitely not his has been put where his bookshelf used to be, but the chair is plush and comfortable and big enough for Mij to arrange them so the cadet is resting sideways on Mij’s lap with his back against the arm of the chair.

He adjusts the towel and makes sure he’s not about to spill _shig_ all over the both of them.

“Alright, _ik’aad._ Let’s see if this does any good. Tell me if you start feeling queasy again.” He mutters softly as he spoons out a sip of the beverage. He blows on it before bringing it to his own lips, testing the temperature rather than drinking any of it.

The cadet makes a face when he tastes it.

“Yes? No?” Mij questions. The _behot_ is a – _unique_ flavor, to say the very least, and Mij wouldn’t blame the cadet for refusing it after getting sick like he did.

“Yes” Is the quiet answer.

Something in his chest loosens at the answer because thank the _Ka’ra._ Eating was good. Talking was good. No alert from the biocuff meant that the cadet’s heartbeat hadn’t gone out of rhythm either. Good.

The _ad_ only finishes maybe a third of the cup before he turns his head away. Mij takes the last spoonful and sets the cup to the side.

Only a third of the drink.

It make’s Mij frown, but that’s what IVs were for.

Mij looks up only to find there are even more people in his apartment. And none of them are looking in Mij’s direction.

Except Tay’haai.

The man is seated at the second dinning room table along with what seems like half the training sergeants. He has cards in his hand but doesn’t seem to be paying any attention to the game going by the way he straightens when he meets Mij’s eyes.

Mij points at his bedroom door and then spells out _medicase_ with the hand not wraped around the clone's shoulders. Tay’haai nods in understanding, discarding his cards and getting up.

He returns with the medicase and the blanket form Mij’s bed.

The thoughtfulness makes his chest constrict a little. Only a little.

Looking down at the cadet, Mij can’t tell if he’s asleep or just resting, but he’s careful when he reconnects the IV line to the cuff. Tay’haai drapes the blanket over them both and Mij suffers it if only because it will keep the cadet warmer.

The other Mandalorian settles down in the chair closest to them but Mij will suffer that too. Tay’haai doesn’t seem interested in talking or being a bother so he can stay for now. Mij could do without having to hear the man breath.

He tucks the cadet closer, resting his chin on the peach fuzz of the boy’s head and settles in to watch the chaos his apartment had become.

Sometime between Eba winning the entire pot and Rav accusing Zamar of cheating, Mij hears a quiet voice.

“My name’s Tup.”

Mij has to swallow past the sudden lump in his throat.

“ _Su cuy’gar_ , Tup. My name is Mij.”

_I know your name._

_I know your name._

_I know your name as my –_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected twist is me loving Mij more than I thought I would lol He just is chilling with Tup and the Mando Child Acquisition Instinct TM kicks in and he's like 'I guess I'm a father now.' 
> 
> Also I thought the literal meaning of Su cuy'gar, aka 'you're still alive' was a nice added oof on the entire thing lol


	9. Jango Fett

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a words:  
> Manda- a collective oversoul described as the very essence of being Mandalorian  
> Dar'manda - a state of not being Mandalorian - one who has lost his heritage, and so his identity and his soul  
> Aliit - clan

Jango pulls himself together one breath at a time. It’s easier now that he has a goal in mind, daunting as that goal might be. Kal no doubt has some idea how to get nearly a million clones off this watery hell, he’s probably been planning something like this from the very start. Or at least since he adopted his _ade_.

Mij’s living room looks like two Mandalorians had just been brawling in it, completely destroyed. Jango will have to get him new furniture as an apology. Maybe he’ll make Kal do it instead.

He digs out the data stick he took from Nale Se’s lab and hands it over to Kal.

“This is all her files.” The _‘will you look though it for me?’_ goes unsaid. Jango doesn’t know if he can stand seeing what exactly that long neck bitch did to the _ade_. Kal nods, taking he files.

With one last deep breath Jango climbs to his feet and retrieves his helmet from where it rolled in the scuffle.

He has labs to destroy.

“Come back after you’re finished. I’ll have something by then.” Kal calls after him.

Jango makes his way back to the reconditioning lab. The same junior scientist is in the main lab again and she makes a sound of horror when she sees him.

Jango hadn’t known _Kaminnii_ could move that fast.

When he gets to the reeducation lab two other _Kaminnii_ are there examining the body. They look up and he sees their eyes widen in fear. Jango pays them no mind, just pulls out a thermal detonator and sets the timer. It beeps in confirmation and then starts its countdown. Jango tosses it at the oxygen canisters and leaves.

He hears the two _Kaminnii_ scramble out after him.

The explosion rocks the floor and the emergency lights flicker on as the main power to the section is cut off automatically.

Jango’s steps don’t falter.

The decommissioning labs are off the medical wing and Jango tries not to let the rage of that fact choke him.

How many _ade_ had gone in for a ‘check up’ and never come back?

The lab doors are sealed by administrative authority, ‘pending review’. It’s Taun We’s authorization key.

Some part of Jango wonders if she shut the lab down because she cared for Boba or if it was just because letting her charge be murdered was unprofessional. He will find out soon. He’ll pay her a visit in the morning.

Getting the door open is as easy as popping the control panel off the wall and sparking the right wire.

The lights flicker on when Jango steps in and –

There is a body.

The air is frigid and there is a neat row of metal tables lining the walls. There on the last table is a cadet stripped to the waist, autopsy scar clinically symmetrical from his navel to his shoulders. No one even bothered to close his eyes.

It’s not Boba. Thank every star in the sky it’s not Boba.

Jango hates himself for the thought.

He slips off his helmet as he approaches and gently shut’s the _ad_ ’s eyes. 

Jango is shaking from the rage, or maybe the grief. It doesn’t matter now. It won’t help Boba and it won’t help this _ad_ either.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t here.” Jango whispers, soothing his thumb against a pale cheek and hoping the cadet can hear him in the _Manda_. If not Jango will find him when he dies and say it to him then.

Unless Jango is _dar’manda_ for what he’s done.

The thought makes his stomach swoops in fear, but Jango knows he deserves it. He’s not sure even Jaster would be able to stomach the sight of him now, much less any of the other _Ka’ra_.

The _Kaminnii_ don’t use cremation, they recycle everything and Jango has never hated them more for it. The idea of so many _ade_ slipping down the refuse chutes and being torn apart by the digestors makes bile rise in his throat.

He hates it, hates it more than anything, but the _ade_ is gone, this is just a body.

He bends down, resting his forehead against the cadet’s for a moment before pulling the _ad_ into his arms. The echoing sound of the body falling down the chute is the most horrific thing Jango has ever heard.

He slips his helmet back on as if that will erase the sound form ringing in his hears.

Nala Se’s hand has gone stiff but it still accesses the terminals regardless. The files are too big for the data stick he brough with him so Jango just crawls under the terminal and rips out the hard drive. He tries not to think about how many files there has to be if his datastick can’t hold it all.

Jango kicks over every vat and container labeled as flammable. Opens the valves on the gas canisters and disables the automatic flame retardants in the ceiling. He jams open the refuge chutes so air can get in to feed the fire.

The lab is too big to just blow up, it will have to burn.

He sets his last thermal and left.

Jango almost turns to go to his apartment on habit alone but stops in his tracks when he realizes there is no point. Boba isn’t waiting for him.

Nowhere else to go, Jango makes his way back to Gilamar’s. Even if Kal isn’t still there, Jango wants to know how the cadet is doing.

He walks in and stops dead in his tracks, stomach dropping to his feet.

The survivors of the _Haat’ade_ stare back at him.

Jango is going to kill Kal with his bare hands.

He takes a breath and pulls off his helmet.

Jango is so fucking _ashamed_ to face them.

They look at him with guarded hope and Jango wonders how they can still believe in him after all this time. He’s spent the last two decades pretending like they are nothing more to him than business associates, and yet they were here waiting for whatever Jango has to say. Waiting for what their _Mand’alor_ wants from them.

Jango doesn’t know what to say. He wants to apologize. For getting the rest of their people killed. For abandoning them after. It won’t change anything, and Jango doubts they want apologies or excuses. Jango knows what they want, and he might not be able to change the past but he can give them a future.

“We’re going home. We’re taking the troopers with us.” He announces, but that’s not right. He didn’t say it right.

“Get on it! I want to be gone yesterday.” He barks, voice full of purpose. It’s an order this time.

A collective jump goes through the room as Jango strides forward. Chairs are rearranged, a holo projector is set up, and plans are made.

It doesn’t do anything to take away the ache in Jango’s chest, but surrounded by his _aliit_ he at least feels like a Mandalorian again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not perfectly happy with this chapter either but like I can't figure out why I don't like it lol It moves the story forward but I guess there isn't as much character focused development, maybe? Idk. This might be the last chapter for a bit lol I need to figure out what I want to do next.
> 
> Thank you for all of the comments and kudos!!! It makes my day!


	10. Taun We

Taun We knew her termination was pending.

She had failed in the most basic and fundamental way possible. Jango would be returning soon and Taun We didn’t have any illusions about her chances at survival. Termination is an acceptable correction for her failure.

Taun We’s only goal now is to take every scrap of achievement and prestige that old hag Nala Se had hoarded in her life and drown it in the ocean. The Prime Minister was far too generous with his funding to Nala Se’s projects and look what had happened. The scientist continued to skim off ‘subpar’ units from the GAR project without license, and Taun We could do nothing about it because the bitch was the director of the quality control department.

It wasn’t a matter of quality control, it was a matter of organization. None of Primary Donor Fett’s units had fallen below combat parameters. It was only that some exceled in specific specializations and others did not. A unit’s outlying score could be adjusted for by simply reassigning that unit to another platoon.

There was no need for decommissioning.

It was just an excuse for Nala Se to have genetically similar testing subjects for her other projects.

The Prime Minister didn’t see the problem with it.

They were just clones, after all.

The thought makes her click her teeth in dissatisfaction but she pushes the feeling away. She has work to do.

Taun We knows she does not have enough time to see the ruin of Nale Se’s reputation herself, but there are several junior scientists that think very little of the woman and have enough spite to tear down Nala Se’s legacy even if it does not gain them anything. Taun We will see to it that their task is expedient.

She simply goes through Nala Se’s files and highlights avenues of defamation.

Unsurprisingly there are a multitude. Supposed projects Nala Se was overseeing but had no corresponding reports of results or advancement. Bribery most likely. Several disputed intellectual property cases. Taking credit for other’s achievements. Reports of suboptimal laboratory conditions. That could mean anything but for a scientist that prided herself on being proficient, it would be yet another blow against her reputation.

She deserves worse for killing Boba.

If Jango does not terminate her right away, Taun We will ask him to terminate Nala Se and the Prime Minister as well. She has no doubt the human already plans on it, but she would like the confirmation none the less.

In fact, Taun We can predict with some certainty that anyone that is even tangentially responsible for Boba’s death will not survive the Mandalorian’s anger.

The Prime Minister does not seem to understand this. His reaction when Taun We informed him of Nala Se’s actions was dismissive at most. He merely authorized her to negotiate reparations with the Mandalorian ranging from a payment of credits, another clone, or whatever the human might request as compensation.

He doesn’t understand.

There is no compensation sufficient to repay Boba’s life.

Taun We will authorize the maximum payments to Jango regardless.

She fills out all the relevant forms but leaves the specifics blank so the Mandalorian can simply fill in what he finds most useful and submit it. She sets it to be forwarded to the human in the case he terminates her before she has the chance to inform him.

She also fills out her primary benefactor form so her accounts will transfer to Jango upon her death. She has a sister but none of her family acknowledges Taun We after – 

Needless to say, she doesn’t feel the need to benefit them in any way.

The sensors detect the _Slave I_ ’s return and Taun We settles down to wait.

The waves look beautiful this time of night and it’s calming to watch them.

She receives the security alert concerning Nala Se’s termination. Taun We feels only vicious satisfaction.

Sometime later is an alert about an explosion in the reconditioning labs. Then in the decommissioning level. The Prime Minister tries to call her but she mutes her notifications after the third attempt.

Someone pings her living quarter’s door but she ignores that too.

They eventually go away.

The alarm on her kitchen crono alerts her that it’s time to go wake Boba up and make sure he eats something.

She lets it ring.

The sound cuts off and she looks over to find Jango standing there, blaster in hand. His helmet is turned towards the crono and she wonders if he knows enough Kaminoan to read the alarm’s notification.

_‘Go see Baby Boba!’_

She had set it a long time ago when Jango had just started to take off world bounties again and looking after Boba during the day had fallen to her. She had been so excited.

Taun We finds that without that task she has little to look forward to.

Maybe that’s why she’s not scared when Jango walks closer and sits across from her.

They stare at each other and it reminds her of when they first met. Being the human liaison had been a sort of insult. After –

Well, the senior council had considered her too emotional, and so she was the ideal candidate to interact with their human clients and associates. No one else wanted to be around Jango or the other training sergeants. No one else wanted to speak to the clones. 

It had made her integral to the GAR project and she was able to revive her reputation. But the advancement of her career had become secondary to the satisfaction of seeing the troopers grow.

To seeing Boba grow.

“What happened?” Jango asks flatly.

It is not unexpected that he would want to know. Taun We had sent a file to him with the information but she supposes he might not have seen it yet.

“Former Science Director Nala Se dispatched a droid scanning for a particular protean marker. She claimed the marker made the troopers susceptible to an allergic reaction caused by substance common on many planets. She said it was a defect that could not be overlooked. Boba was visiting some of the cadets when the droid made its rotation and he was found to have the marker Nala Se was scanning for.”

Taun We had warned Boba not to go out after lights out. She had warned him again and again but she should have known he would sneak out anyway. She should have known.

She should have kept him safe.

“Did you care for him?”

Taun We wonders at the question. Why would it matter? How much she cared for Boba is secondary to seeing to his wellbeing. Something she had failed.

“After my inviable offspring I was considered unfit to reproduce. I considered Boba an adequate substitution.”

Inviable. Like an undesirable variation in iris color is grounds for termination. Like her offspring hadn’t been perfectly healthy in every other way. Like he wouldn’t have grown up tall and healthy if Taun We had just managed to get off planet before her family had reported them.

Boba had looked nothing like her little Luta when she’d first held the squirming human, but he had given her a gummy smile and Taun We had remembered what it was like to feel love again.

Jango is silent for so long Taun We feels the need to speak once more.

“This is why I consider termination an appropriate outcome to my failure. I would ask you to also terminate the Prime Minister as well.”

She doesn’t know what files Jango has access to but it would be an oversight not to ensure the Prime Minister comes to regret his mistakes.

“And why is that?” Jango asks slowly, head cocking to the side in the way that indicates curiosity.

“He has always favored Nala Se, and I find his response to her actions lacking. Though I would advise you wait until after you submit the reparation form and receive your compensation. All credit transactions are frozen in the even of the Prime Minister’s termination.” In the case of assassination at least.

Jango takes a slow breath.

“What if I refuse the reparations? What if I consider this grounds to terminate my contract? What would happen to my clones?”

There is something in the way that he says _my_ that makes her think he wants them alive and she finds that is a relief. She would rather Jango look after them than one of the other administrators.

There was nothing her people valued more than their scientific achievements. Their laws reflected that. All of it was designed to protect pioneering scientist, not their clients and Jango’s contract had clauses that forfeited the rights of his DNA to Tipoca City but –

Boba was part of the payment.

And now he was dead.

Kamino had killed him.

Through their negligence they had violated the requirements of Jango’s contract. It was usually the client that failed to deliver the payment not Kamino scientists. Taun We finds she has no reservations using the loophole to benefit Jango and the troopers.

“Under Kamino intellectual property laws any samples of your DNA would be returned to you. Any scientific patent or unit created based off your genetic material would default back to you as well.”

Jango takes another breath and reaches up to take off his helmet.

He looks like Boba did when he was ill with a viral infection. Sunken eyes, gaunt cheeks, gray skin. Taun We hopes he rests soon. Boba would hate to see him like this.

When he speaks it’s the last thing she expects him to say.

“I need your help.”

Taun We has known Jango for a little over eight years and the last time he asked her that it had been to watch Boba. She had never regretted that decision. She doesn’t expect she’ll regret this one either.

“Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tbh Taun We was one of my favorite characters when I first saw Attack of the Clones. I was looking up Kaminoan culture and society on the wiki and read that they kill any infants born with green eyes bc they don't fit into the caste system and therefore threaten the social order. I figured that would be an interesting take on things and would give me a chance to explore Kamino without taking a 100% negative route for every character lol 
> 
> Thank you for all the kind comments! I really love them!


	11. Fordo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a words:  
> beskar’gam- armor  
> buy’ce- helmet  
> vod/vode- brother/brothers  
> kov’nyn- headbutt or Keldabe kiss, def mean it as a Keldabe kiss in this context lol  
> k’olar- come over here  
> Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad- I know your name as my child, the Mandalorian adoption vows  
> Gal bal Manda- name and soul, name of the adoption vows  
> aruetiise - outsider, enemy, stranger, not Mandalorian  
> Manda'yaim- Mandalore

Something happened and Fordo can’t figure out what it was. No one could. Even asking the other ARC squadrons didn’t help.

The Null’s might know something but they are sticking close to Kal’ _buir_.

It was a shame Boba hasn’t been around or that little gossip would have had them up to speed. But whatever it was, it had the long necks jumpy.

Troopers stop getting called to the labs and the _Kaminnii_ nearly disappear from the hallways, only the maintenance workers are still doing their normal tasks.

Alpha squad runs drills and do their training modules but something in the air has shifted like entire facility is holding its breath.

And then they hear news that the Prime is back.

Polyp form Teth squadron swears he saw _Slave I_ touch down from a viewport in the north quarter.

Fordo expects to see the Prime that rotation, or at least the morning of the next. The Mandalorian lets himself be predictable like that. He stops by his apartment to see Bo’ _ika_ and then he comes to check in with Alpha-17 and the rest of them.

He doesn’t come this time.

All of Alpha squadron just – lotter in their barracks that morning, waiting. Jango takes over their training whenever he’s planet side and he’s never been late before. He’s usually up even before Alpha-17. It’s almost half meal when he walks in.

Something’s wrong.

He’s in full _beskar’gam_ , his _buy’ce_ held under one arm, and his face –

Fordo doesn’t know if he’s ever seen Jango look this awful. Not when one of the little CCs had managed to break his nose in a spar, not when they ran their night drills and didn’t sleep for days, never.

“Sir?” Alpha-17 asks hesitantly, taking a half step towards the Prime.

Jango’s eyes soften and he waves Alpha forward and even the gesture itself is _wrong_. It’s not a command it’s just –

Gentle in a way the Prime isn’t.

Not to any of them but Boba.

Alpha stops in front of Jango, falling into a parade rest. Jango waves him closer still and Fordo can see the uncertainty in his _vod_ ’s shoulders, but he steps towards Jango’s outstretched hand all the same.

Something in Fordo’s chest tightens when Jango pulls Alpha-17 close and rests their foreheads together in a _kov’nyn._

He hears Aven give a sharp inhale behind him, his hand snaps out and fists in the back of Fordo’s shirt in surprise. His _vod_ gives two sharp tugs as if Fordo isn’t staring at the exact same thing. As if they aren’t all struck dumb by what is happening in front of them.

The jealousy is expected if unwelcome.

Everyone knew Alpha-17 was the Prime’s favorite, but Fordo doesn’t begrudge him too much. He did everything he could to look out for the rest of them and they knew it. But even so – some part of Fordo wishes that was him instead of Alpha-17.

They all wish that.

Jango says something too quiet to hear and Alpha jerks back, eyes wide. He has an expression Fordo has never seen on his face before. Jango gives him a strained smile, patting his cheek before turning towards the rest of their squadron.

_“K’olar.”_ He calls waving them forward in that same not sharp way that he had Alpha-17.

Valiant lives up to the name Jango gave him and steps forward first.

This time when Jango speaks it’s loud enough for all of them to hear.

“ _Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad_ , Valiant.”

Fordo feels his heart stop, some desperate _want_ suddenly trying to choke him.

Aven is pulling on his shirt so hard it’s choking him. Fordo reaches back and grabs Aven’s hand in his. It’s shakng.

The world seems suspended as they all try to understand what just happened.

_“K’olar”_ Jango says again.

They press forward like a single being. 

Jango doesn’t get a single one of their names wrong.

Suddenly Jango is in front of Fordo. He looks even worse up close and Fordo gets that same sense of unease that has hovered over them all for the last tendays.

Something _happened_ and it’s the cause of this but –

Fordo doesn’t care because Jango’s hand is on his shoulder and he’s saying Fordo’s _Gal bal Manda_.

They’re Jango’s now like Boba is and –

It’s such a _relief_.

Aven is next and his _vod_ gives a watery laugh when Jango says his name.

For some reason that’s what makes Fordo’s eyes sting out of everything.

Carg is the last and the barracks fall into silence before Jango speaks again.

“You were all already _Mando’ade_. You, the cadets, the _ik’ade_. Anyone says differently, you punch them in the teeth.”

They _knew_ that. They _knew_ that even if Jango never acknowledged it before now. They knew it like they knew the beat of their hearts and the marrow of their bones. They _knew_ they were Mandalorian but –

Hearing Jango say it made it real.

“If that’s true why did you bother adopting us?” Stec demands, voice equal parts bitter and desperate.

Jango doesn’t flinch at the accusation.

“Because I wanted you to know that you are mine. Because where we’re going, they will say that you are _aruetiise_ and I want you to know they are _wrong_.” 

It makes something warm bloom in Fordo’s chest and then the entirety of Jango’s words register.

_Going where?_

“Sir?” Alpha-17 asks in confusion.

The grin Jango gives them is predatory.

“I think it’s time you see _Manda’yaim_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was harder to write than I thought it would be but I think it turned out alright. I def want to focus more on the clones bc I love them, how could I not lol 
> 
> Jango is moving and grooving. He's def pulling some smooth moves with Taun We's help to get the Alpha clones off Kamino early but what they are up to will be important later lol
> 
> Thank you for all the comments and kudos!!!


	12. Jaing Skirata

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a words:  
> Buir- parent  
> Kyr’tsad- Death Watch  
> K’oyacyi- stay alive  
> laandur - weakling (in this context lol)

Jaing is going to kill his _buir_.

He goes off to play his card games at Mij’s and then suddenly Fett is back, Nala Se is dead, the labs are blown up, and Fett is taking the Alpha squad on a ‘military exercise’ off planet.

And Kal didn’t even bother to tell them.

The most interesting thing that has happened on Kamino _ever_ and their _buir_ just forgets to invite them to the super-secret but not actually secret meeting between all the _Haat’ade_.

It’s so unfair.

He bets Boba was invited.

Prudii and A’den were in the kitchen fixing breakfast when their _buir_ walks into the apartment.

Jaing was about to make a joke about Mij drinking him under the table again but stops short when he saw the look on Kal’s face.

Grim but resolute.

“ _Buir,_ what’s wrong?” Ordo asked bringing everyone else’s attention to the fact that their _bui_ r had returned.

“I’ll tell you after breakfast, Or’ _ika_.” Had been his answer, which brings them to where they are now. Sitting at their table listing as Kal describes an entire mission briefing that they should have been at.

Jaing perks up when the conversation pivots.

“- so what I need you to do is get us a list of trainers. For the Mandos I need to know if they aligning with the _Haat’ade_ , the New Mandalorians, or the _Kyr’tsad_.” The last word is spit like a curse.

“I need to know who knows who, if one of them disappears, I need to know who will look for them.”

Kom’rk has a datapad out taking notes.

“I also need you to interview the younger troopers to find out which trainers mistreat them and which ones they like. If things come down to a shootout, we need to know who to shoot at. You’ll have ten days.”

Jaing’s mind is already racing ahead to try and figure out the best way to accomplish all that. They will need to split up. Prudii and Mereel interviewing the troopers, the rest of them observing the trainers. If they can get Boba to help, interviewing the younger clones will go even faster. If Boba is the one asking it won’t feel so much like an interrogation.

“Can we bring Boba in on this?” Jaing asks. The question make’s their _buir_ clench his jaw.

“Boba is dead.”

_Oh_

“Is that why Fett –“ Ordo doesn’t finish the question but Kal answers it anyway.

“Yes.”

Jaing’s hands ball into fists as the _why_ finally slots into place. Fett is such a hypocrite.

Clones didn’t matter until it was Boba that was being dragged off and killed. They didn’t matter until the _Kaminnii_ did something to rip Fett out of his little bubble of isolation. Jaing has always wanted the bastard to get a harsh dose of reality but –

Not if it cost Boba his life.

“Boba will be the last. We are leaving, and I need your best, _ner ade_. Can I count on you?” Their _buir_ asks.

It’s not even a question.

“Of course.” Jaing answers for them.

Kal’s face is fond as he looks at each of them in turn.

“I’m flying out with Jango and his boys, you’ll be reporting to Mij and Ugo. The other _Haat’ade_ will take over my classes. I’ve sent a message to Niner to have the Omega squadron run urban combat drills for the next tendays. Jango will be longer but I should be back by then.”

Their _buir_ gives them a smile, it’s sharp around the edges as if he’s daring the galaxy to prove his words wrong.

“If not – you know where to go if something happens here.”

Jaing’s head flits through all their evacuation plans that really boil down to kill who you have to and take as many as their _vode_ with them off planet as they can.

Simple. Effective.

Kal goes to pack, leaving them to stare at each other.

Jaing sees his determination mirrored back on his _vode’_ s faces.

It’ doesn’t take their _buir_ long to get his things together and they meet him at the door.

Kal embraces each of them, turning to Jaing last.

“You’ll do fine. Watch after each other. I love you, _ner ad._ ” He says gruffly into Jaing’s temple.

“I love you too.” He grits out, trying not to sound as miserable as he feels.

This is the first time their _buir_ will be gone for any amount of time.

Jaing didn’t think it would be scary.

“ _K’oyacyi_.” Their _buir_ says in farewell.

“ _K’oyacyi_.” They parrot back.

And then he’s gone.

Jaing knows if he opened the door and looked down the hallway Kal would still be there. He doesn’t know why seeing his _buir_ walk through the door with a pack on his shoulder felt so much different than when he was just leaving for any other reason.

Maybe it’s just he’s never had to say goodbye before.

Jaing really hates it.

“I’m in charge.” Ordo says into the heavy silence.

It’s pure violent instinct to spin around and punch Ordo in the stomach. He punches Mereel too just for good measure.

Both of them go down but Jaing doesn’t see Prudii and he jumps on Jaing’s back, getting him in a headlock. Kom’rk is already pouncing on their downed brothers but A’den sees Jaing’s predicament and lunges for him.

Jaing tries to get out of reach but with Prudii on his back and Ordo trying to trip him, Jaing goes down face first into the rug. He half lands on Mereel, Kom’rk and Ordo getting pained yelps form the all of them. A’den, always the opportunist jumps in the middle of the five of them.

“You’re crushing me.” Ordo wheezes form under the pile.

Serves him right.

“Die then, _laandur_.” Kom’rk hisses.

Prudii, that little rat bastard, licks his finger and shoves it in Jaing’s ear like the disgusting Hutt spawn he is. Jaing can’t reach Prudii so he flails his hand out slaps whatever he can reach and Mereel gives a pained hiss.

The door slides open.

“I forgot my –“ Their _buir_ ’s voice cuts off when he sees them.

From where he is Jaing can only see Kal’s boot for a moment as he steps over them. They don’t move as he disappears into his room and returns.

“Carry on.” Their _buir_ instructs as he steps over them again.

“Jaing is in charge.” He says, entirely too cheerful as the door slides shut again.

It’s five against one, Jaing never had a chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Cain Instinct is real, I've felt it.


	13. Dogma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a word:  
> Ka’ra k’aranar ner kar’ta - literally = Ka'ra defend my heart. Sort of used like 'God in heaven! or Dear God!' like you would use if you heard something and it was so awful you had to call on divine help to handle it.

Tup is dead and it’s Dogma’s fault.

Dogma had learned a long time ago, even if he was the perfect trooper, even if he followed every regulation and aced ever test, he still couldn’t protect his brothers.

He knew that, but it didn’t make it any easier when Tup didn’t come back.

Even if he was caught and reconditioned, they still would have him back by the morning.

He had been decommissioned then.

Killed.

And it was Dogma’s fault.

Tup had wanted him to come as a lookout. Dogma had said no. With whatever was happening with the Kaminoans, the hallway patrols were irregular at best.

It was too dangerous.

Dogma had _told_ his brother not to go. Dogma had _begged_ Tup not to go.

Zipzap was smart, he could find the right vent to disappear into. They had told him exactly where to go. Tub didn’t need to go help him.

Tup had gone anyway.

Tup had gone and Dogma didn’t go with him and now he was dead.

They didn’t even know if Zipzap had made it into the vents.

Dogma hoped he did.

The screen flashes red again as he gets another answer wrong and Dogma feels his eyes burn with tears. He gets the next one wrong too and has to bite his lip and blink hard but even then he can’t read the words on the screen.

This is going to show up on his scores. They are going to take him in for testing to see why he’s suddenly defective.

Dogma scrubs at his face trying to take a deep breath.

The next question is wrong. The next too.

It’s entirely expected when a hand lands on his shoulder.

“Trooper CT-5937?” The voice asks. Dogma swipes his eyes one more time and gets to his feet, giving the training sergeant a salute. It’s not their usual trainer, but maybe he’s just the one they sent to escort him.

“Yes Sir.” He chokes out.

It’s one of the Mandalorians. Dogma doesn’t know if that make things better or worse. Sargent Caidale is a Mandalorian too, but he never seems to have a problem sending them to decommissioning. This one has his helmet on though, Dogma doesn’t know if that makes a difference.

“Come with me.” Is the only words the man offers.

He grabs Dogma’s shoulder and steers him towards the door. Dogma doesn’t know if the touch is supposed to be a threat or not. It doesn’t hurt. Maybe the man is just counting on fear to keep Dogma form causing trouble.

There is no point in running anyway.

They don’t head to the testing and reconditioning labs. Decommissioning then.

He wonders if it will hurt. He hopes not. He doesn’t want to think Tup hurt before he died.

He hopes that he will see Tup again.

Some of the older troopers talked about a place called _Manda_ where they all went when they died. That none of their brothers were really dead, they were just marching far away.

Dogma is glad he won’t have to run far to catch up with Tup.

“Will it hurt?” Dogma asks before he can help himself.

“Will what hurt, _ad_?” The man asks, helmet turning to look down at him. Dogma doesn’t know if that last sound was a word or not. He is more surprised that the trainer even acknolaged his question in the first place.

“Decommissioning. Will it hurt?” He clarifies.

 _“Ka’ra k’aranar ner kar’ta.”_ The man says, voice going high in what sounds like distress. He’s kneeling in front of Dogma then, reaching up and taking his helmet off.

His eyes are surprisingly kind.

“You’re not going to be decommissioned. I’m taking you to see your _vod_.” The man assures.

Dogma knows _that_ word and hope bubbles in his chest because it hast to be Tup.

“CT-3585?” He can barely hear his own words past the rapid beating of his heart. The man cocks his head to the side in question.

“You mean Tup?”

He knows Tup’s name.

Dogma can’t hardly breath.

If he knows Tup’s name the sergeant can’t be like Caidale. Maybe he’s like Kal’ _buir_. He has to be if Tup told the Mandalorian his name.

“Is he okay?” Dogma begs.

“He’s fine, _ad_.”

Dogma starts crying.

He can’t help it. He’s happy, so why is he crying?

The sergeant’s eyes go wide in surprise and Dogma wonders if he is going to get a reprimand. Crying is defiantly not regulation behavior in front of a superior.

Instead the sergeant stands, scooping Dogma up as he goes.

 _Tall_ is Dogma’s only though as he is suddenly almost two meters off the ground. He looks at the Mandalorian in surprise but the man just smiles at him. It looks kinda goofy.

“You can cry if you want. I won’t tell anyone.”

Dogma frowns at him but the man has turned his gaze straight ahead as he starts walking. Being up so high it feels like he’s about to fall so Dogma gabs the man’s armor. The sergeant doesn’t seem to mind.

“I cried when I stubbed my toe this morning.” He announces, matter of fact.

Dogma isn’t sure if he believes the man’s or not.

“I also cried when my friend Eba won all my credits in sabac.” 

Fargo cried when he lost a bit of seashell he’d found during aqua training, so maybe the man was telling the truth.

Dogma can’t remember the last time he cried before today.

“I cried when I spilled soup on my bed.”

Dogma wrinkles his nose. Gross.

The sergeant hums like he’s trying to think of another time he supposedly cried.

Dogma thinks too. He tries to remember the last time he cried. It must have been when-

“I cried when they decommissioned, Yancy.”

The arms around him tighten a fraction but it’s not painful.

“That’s a good time to cry.” The man acknowledges.

“I don’t think you picked good things to cry about.” Dogma offers because it seems like the nice thing to do. Crying wastes time. They aren’t supposed to do that.

“You don’t think? My friends think the same thing. They tease me. I don’t know why.” The man admits.

“Because you’re a crybaby.” Dogma answers helpfully.

The man laughs. It’s a nice sound, it fills the hallway and makes Dogma’s chest vibrate. He does a sort of half hop half spin and Dogma’s arms go around his neck to hang on.

“Is that it?! I couldn’t figure out why!” He laughs, patting Dogma’s back in thanks. It makes warmth fill his chest. The man seems nice, Dogma is glad he could help.

“You’re really smart, trooper. What’s your name? I’m Wad’e.”

The question makes Dogma freeze. The only reason any trainer ever wants to know their designation is if they are going to get in trouble.

But the man – Wad’e – already knew his CT number, and he had asked for his name not designation.

He knew Tup’s name, so maybe it was okay.

“I’m Dogma.” He says quietly. He knows it’s a strange name. One of the older troopers gave it to him. Dogma knows it wasn’t meant to be a nice name. It was supposed to be a warning.

“It’s nice to meet you, Dogma. _Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad._ ”

Dogma knows the words are _Mando’a_ , but he doesn’t understand them. He knows most of the ARC troopers can speak it, some of the CCs too like Kote, but most of the CTs only know a few words. Wad’e had said the words like they were important though.

“I don’t know that that means.” He admits. The arms tighten around him again.

“It’s okay, I’ll teach you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Dogma's characterization is pretty juvenile and prob a little ooc in this, which I will defend on the grounds that he is less than six physically and less than three actually. He def wouldn't have gone though all the stuff he did in canon and hopefully I captured that somewhat.
> 
> As for some troopers knowing Mando'a and others not, I figure on a military instillation with troops that are literally training to be the best army in the galaxy, one of thee key ways to control them is to control the information they have access to and control who talks to who. The language would have sort of a trickle down effect where the ARC troopers that interact with the Mandalorian trainers would pick up the most, and it would filter down from there. 
> 
> Also Wad'e's full name is Wad'e Tay'haai and you can bet Mij is going to be pissed he poached Dogma's adoption lolol


	14. Wad'e Tay'haai

Wad’e has never been so angry in his life.

Even as he lets Dogma down so he can run to Tup, the rage mixes with the joy of seeing the two so happy to see each other.

The _Kaminnii_ killed the clones.

Decommissioning meant killing.

This is why the galaxy though Mandalorians were so fucking stupid. Because they were.

Wad’e should have known. Should have guessed. It’s not as if these soulless _aruetiise_ did anything that made sense.

_Why_ would they kill them? How did it make any sense? Even if a trooper couldn’t be a soldier, an army still needed engineers. Medics. Requisitions officers. Chow hall workers. Fucking _morale_ officers. Anything! Even if a clone couldn’t fight, there were so many other things they could do that were just as important as shooting a blaster.

But this wasn’t a military base, it was a factory.

They used their ‘defective products’ to run their experiments. They use _ik’add_ like lab rats.

Wad’e wants to rip his own throat out at the thought. He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand how something like this could exist.

And Jango had _known_.

Wad’e doesn’t know how many of the others knew before last night, Kal for sure. Mij had at least suspected. But Jango _knew_.

It only makes the rage in his chest burn hotter.

Wad’e loves Jango. Has loved him since their _buire_ fought together in the civil war. Since Wad’e was alone and scared after his _buir_ died and Jango put a hand on his shoulder and told him it would be alright. 

Wad’e loved Jango when he showed up after years of silence and asked him to be a trainer here. And still when Jango avoided them like a plague even after that. Wad’e hadn’t know what happened, but he would trust that Jango would come back to them when he was ready.

And look where that trust had gotten them.

_Dar’manda_. Every single one of them.

Unknowingly or not, they had killed _ade_.

Wad’e though he knew what type of man Jango was. Noble and resolute, tenacious and cunning, strong in every sense of the word. The best of their people, as long as Jango was alive so was the _Manda_.

Jango was _Mand’alor_.

He was _Wad’e’s Mand’alor_. He could have said they were going to wild space and never coming back and Wad’e would have followed him happily and never looked back.

Mandalore wasn’t home, _Jango_ was. And Wad’e has never been so homesick in his life.

Jango might have walked among them but Wad’e couldn’t recognize the man he had become.

“Be careful of the tubes, he has to keep them in a little longer.”

Wad’e is thankful when Mij’s voice pulls him back to reality.

The other Mandalorian is kneeling in front of the couch, rearranging the IV lines so they are out of the cadets’ way. Wad’e’s heart constricts when the medic smiles at the _ade_. Tup gives him a small smile in return but Dogma is still watching him wearily.

“I will be, thank you for taking care of him.” Dogma responds dutifully.

“I was happy to. _Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad,_ Dogma.”

“What does that mean? Sargent Wad’e said the same thing.”

Wad’e breaks out into a cold sweat as Dogma unknowingly rats him out.

“It means that I promise to protect you. I promised Tup the same thing.”

Dogma glances over at Tup and Wad’e can tell they are communicating in that telepathic way siblings do. Dogma looks back at Mij.

“That’s nice of you.” He says diplomatically.

Wad’e snorts before he can stop himself. 

Mij’s head slowly turns in his direction. Wad’e doesn’t need to be a mind reader to hear what Mij is snarling at him.

_I’m going to kill you._

“I’ll fix midmeal. I’m sure _Sargent Wad’e_ would love to help.” Mij says out loud. Wad’e can hear his fury in the perfectly even words.

That isn’t the tone of voice he was hoping Mij would finally say his first name with.

“I’d love to.” Wad’e agrees easily.

Maybe it’s a little cowardly but Wad’e is incredibly thankful the cadets are sitting on the couch just then. The little _ade_ are probably the only reason Mij hasn’t pulled his scalpels and come for Wad’e’s blood. As it is, if he attempts to kill Wad’e in the kitchen he’ll have to do it quietly or it will scare the kids.

Wad’e lets Mij head to the kitchen first, not willing to let them man behind him just then. He flashes the cadets a smile before he leaves them be.

Mij is leaned over the sink staring down into the dirty dishes. Wad’e can tell he’s not really seeing anything. The man’s shoulders are hunched, mouth pinched in a harsh line, skin gray form stress. He’s been looking though that old bitch Nala Se’s works to try and find all the traps hidden in the clone’s DNA and it shows. Maybe Wad’e can convince him to sleep for a little while after they eat.

When Mij speaks there is hurt underneath the anger.

“Why would you do that? You _knew_ I was going to adopt him. He’s _mine_.”

_I could be yours too_

“I’m not trying to take him from you.” Wad’e knows Mij wouldn’t hesitate to settle this at the end of a blaster if he really thought Wad’e was trying to steal his _ade_.

“Then what are you trying to do, Tay’haai?” Mij snarls, turning to him.

Wad’e doesn’t have a good answer for him.

“They deserve people that care about them. And you deserve someone you can count on to help you.” That’s the closest he can manage to putting it into words.

“What makes you think I want that person to be you?”

That stings a little, Wad’e won’t pretend like it doesn’t, but it’s not hard to see Wad’e’s own words hurt Mij just as much if for a different reason. 

Wad’e might be a crybaby but he has nothing on Mij’s weeping heart.

“I didn’t think you did, but I’ll be here if you need me.”

_Every day if you’d let me_

Mij exhales hard though his nose and looks away.

“I’ll do the dishes, you fix something to eat.” Mij says, clearly deciding the conversation is over. Wad’e hums in agreement, leaving the other Mandalorian be for now.

For now, the only thing he has to worry about is making something Mij and the _ade_ will eat.

A harrowing task, but Wad’e welcomes the challenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tay'haai!!! My boi!!!
> 
> In his defense if I was a bro familiar with military terminology I would assume decommissioning meant like you lost your officer commission for one reason or another. Like I def would not assume that it meant they were going to cart a trooper off and used them for spare parts. That was a fucked up leap in logic Wad'e was not prepared to make.


	15. Ko Sai

It is late in the rotation and Ko Sai is nearly finished completing a requisition for the merchant guild when Tuan We glides into her lab.

“Administrator Taun We.” Ko Sai greats, giving a small bow to the elegant woman.

“Chief Scientist Ko Sai. I hope I chose an optimal time to interrupt?” She asks politely.

There are more optimal times, but Ko Sai would not want to inconvenience the other Kaminoan by saying so and having her return at a different time.

Though she would not object to Tuan We visiting her again regardless.

“Not at all. How my I be of service?” She hurries to assure.

Ko Sai knows that Administrator Taun We is incredibly efficient at her job, something Ko Sai admires about her. She will no doubt appreciate the same efficiency in Ko Sai.

“We have received an update concerning the GAR project. The units will not be needed as soon as predicted and I fear they will be past their optimal operating date when they are finally deployed. I am here to inquire if there is a way to extend the lifespan of the units?”

Ko Sai feels destress at the news.

The GAR project is the biggest order Kamino has ever fulfilled. It would tarnish their reputation if the units they delivered to their client were suboptimal. Ko Sai’s more than any considering her leading role in the project’s development.

Slowing or nullifying the rapid aging genes in the units would be the most expedient way to address the issue. The older units would benefit less from it but even the very first units produced would still gain a significant increase in shelf life.

“This would be posable. I would need access to the primary donor cells, and a sample of units to test posable solutions.”

Perhaps an RNA virus. Even a transplant of modified cells.

“You will have access to as many of Primary Donor Fett’s cells as necessary, however no units will be available for testing until the selection process for such units has been reviewed.”

Ah, yes, the unaltered unit’s decommissioning.

“Yes, I heard what befell Science Director Nala Se. It is unfortunate, and I feel I must apologize to you personally.” Ko Sai says somewhat haltingly.

She is sure Taun We will be displeased with Ko Sai’s role in the unit’s decommissioning, but it shows honesty and initiative if Ko Sai informs her personally as opposed to Taun We hearing it form one of the junior scientists.

“Oh?” Taun We inquires, her elegant neck bending in question.

“I bear some responsibility for the miss identification. The droid dispatched was using my identification program. The primary donor did not show a significant expression of the gene marker and so I did not anticipate the unaltered unit to have such a defect.”

It was fascinating. For an unaltered clone to have such a drastic variation of protein markers it indicated an environmental variable.

It raised many intriguing questions that Ko Sai would like to explore once they have access to the units again.

Perhaps a battery of tests exposing the units to varying irritants to observe their immune system’s adaption rates. Long term exposure could even result in the protein variation in their genes observed in the unaltered clone.

Taun We’s neck has straightened to her full height in her displeasure and Ko Sai hurries to offer reparations for her trouble.

“I have caused you much grief on this matter, and in the interest of our harmonious professional relationship I would offer my services to you personally.”

Taun We has not softened her stance and Ko Sai wants to wince at her unfortunate association with Nala Se’s actions.

“I am aware that your initial offspring was defective. If you’d allow me, I believe my work could benefit your genome. With my assurance the senior council will in all likelihood retract their decision and allow you to reproduce.”

It was a surprise to find out an ideal specimen such as Taun We would produce inviable offspring. She had gone to great lengths to hide the fact but Ko Sai had been interested and there is no mystery that survives her interest for long.

“Yes, you have caused me much grief. I have no need of such services. Nor do I have a partner with which I desire to combine genomes with.”

Ah, another sore spot she has unknowingly tread on.

Ko Sai thinks it’s rather foolish for Taun We’s previous partner to abandon her for a genetic defect that can be corrected so easily.

“I would offer my own genome as a candidate. There are many qualities you possess that I find desirable, I believe I can offer a similar benefit to you as well.”

Their offspring would be ideal. Ko Sai’s intellect and innovation, Taun We’s efficiency and elegance.

Taun We is silent for a moment.

“A generous offer. We may speak more about your personal reparations to me once the GAR project’s issues are addressed.” She concedes.

Perhaps Ko Sai is not as experienced at wordplay as an administrator like Taun We is, but that sounds very close to an affirmative answer.

“I expect the modifications to the GAR units to demonstrate the quality of achievement you are personally offering me.”

With that final statement Taun We glides form her lab. Ko Sai watches her go, satisfaction threading though her chest.

The requisition from the merchant guild was non critical, it could be put on hold for now.

Ko Sai will have gene modifications ready in a half tendays and to a standard far above any other scientist Taun We might have considered. The other Kaminoan will no doubt be impressed with Ko Sai’s efficiency.

Then they could speak again about offspring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ko Sai is such a fucking freak. Kinda sorta chill with the fact that Jaing made her into a pair of gloves in the EU. Tuan We is metaphorically going to be getting those gloves in this fic because when Taun We says 'personal reparations' she means 'You are going to fix the clones and then I am going to snap your neck with my bare hands.' so look forward to that.


	16. Kote

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a words:   
> Kote- Glory, aka Cody  
> Mhi tok’kad Manda’yaim - We retreat to Mandalore  
> Tion gar norhaa’ir haat - do you speak the truth?  
> Ori’haat- Literly 'bit truth' or no bull  
> mhi sol’yc - our original (I didn't like the actual word for original so I used this one instead)

Mereel slides into the seat across from Kote at late meal and with him comes a certainty that trouble is not far behind.

“So Ko’ _ika_ , I was wondering –“

At this point Kote knows he is going to have a headache by the end of the conversation, if not sooner.

“- if you could ask around with your _verd’ika_ and see which trainers they wouldn’t mind having _accidents_.”

Kote stops chewing.

“And by accidents, I mean we’re going to kill them.”

Kote sets his fork down.

“Funny.” He says dryly.

“ _Mhi tok’kad Manda’yaim.”_

Something swoops in his gut at the words.

“ _Tion gar norhaa’ir haat?”_ Kote hisses quietly. If this is a joke he’s going to come across the table and beat Mereel bloody.

“ _Ori’haat.”_

Kote has to put his face in his hands for a moment but Mereel doesn’t give him time before he’s speaking again.

“I want your batchmates in on this. I know they split you up when they gave you commands but these access codes should let you get to them when you have the chance.”

Mereel slides him a piece of paper. Not flimsy but honest to stars _paper_.

“That covers a big part of the _vode_ , but I know some of the splicing and medical units have their own commanders. Do you know who’s in charge of them?”

Kote gives himself a mental shake, refocusing on the task at hand.

“CC-7503 is in charge of the splicers. Him and his trainer are close, you might be better off asking one of the CTs under him if you want a straight answer. Medics are under CC-8961, his tag is Helix I think.” Kote lists off, trying to remember who’s who form their joint training exercises.

“The engineers have their own brigade too, Ogee is the belly button you want to poke there.”

What exactly they are talking about hits Kote again and he can’t help but groan into his hands.

“ _Ka’ra_ , Mereel. Do you know what we are talking about? How the hell are we supposed to pull this off? How are we even going to get off planet? There’s so many of us.”

Whose idiot idea was this? The older _vode_ could fight their way out, but the younger ones, the vast majority of the _vode_ , they would die. The _Kaminnii_ would sink the entire city into the sea before they let the _vode_ escape. They would flush the growing towers and kill the _ik’add_ out of spite. Flood the hallways and barracks with toxin.

“The Prime is working on that. He took the Alphas with him. When they get back, we need to be ready to take the city.”

Kote thinks he might throw up.

“The _city_?” His voice goes up an octave.

“Yeah, so send some of your comm officers to Sargent Vox, he’s working on the radio backout.” Mereel confirms, steamrolling over Kote’s disbelief.

“When is _mhi sol’yc_ going to be back?” He questions trying to get his mind back on track. Mereel frowns at the name. Kote knows it annoys the Null but it serves him right, swaggering in here and dropping this in Kote’s lap.

If this works, they are going to owe the Prime for a lot more than just their pretty faces.

“Rough estimate is fifteen to twenty rotations. Kal’ _buir_ is going to be back sooner and that’s when we are going to be killing the trainers that need killing. If things go right, we will have a few days breathing room and then Fett will be back.”

Kote is putting the pieces together in his head, trying to make a timeline for everything.

“That’s not enough time.”

Mereel agrees with him going by the way his mouth thins into a harsh line.

“We need everyone on the same page, you can’t be running around half assing this. It can’t work as a top-down operation. It needs to be middle out.”

“Okay, so how do we make that happen?”

Just by the question Kote knows Mereel is about to saddle him with a massive job but Kote can’t find it in himself to hesitate even for a second.

They are _leaving_. They are finally getting free of this place and it won’t be from the labs to a battlefield. Well, it will be, there is no way they are getting off this puddle without blood, but it will be a different type of battlefield. One where they fight for themselves rather than the people that paid for them.

“A wargame simulation. It’s an excuse for us to gather in one place. We can brainstorm ideas and get the officers up to date and then they can get their troops on the same page. How much control do you have over the training modules?”

“Complete.” Mereel answers, something like glee in his voice.

“Update them with information that is mission critical.”

Omega squadron running through urban combat drills made a lot more sense now.

“Start on urban drills for everyone, load the city’s infrastructure into the holograms if you can but don’t make it obvious.”

“Excellent idea, but you know what? I think you need to be talking to someone that can make all this happen directly.” Mereel agrees easily, pulling out a commlink from his pocket like it’s nothing.

Kote lunges across the table covering the device with his hands before anyone can see.

“Are you _crazy_?” He hisses at the older clone.

“Adopted or not, they’ll decommission you if they see you with that.”

Mereel uses the grip Kote has on his hands to pull him closer, resting their foreheads together.

“ _They_ aren’t going to do anything. Nala Se is dead, the decommissioning labs are destroyed. We don’t have to be afraid anymore, Ko’ _ika_.”

The very idea is almost imposable to comprehend.

Exhaling slowly, Kote settles back into his seat.

“That just means we have different problems to worry about, but it’s good news regardless. How did it happen?”

Mereel’s face drops into something more somber.

“Bo’ _ika_ got decommissioned while Fett was gone. Kal’ _buir_ kicked Prime’s ass into gear and he decided we’re fucking off to Mandalore.”

Kote winces.

“That’ll do it.” He acknowledges grimly.

Of course it would be something like that. Of course someone had to die for things to change. That seemed to be the way it always happened. Kote wishes that just once none of his _vode_ had to die, but so many more of them would die before this was over.

He drops his head into his hands again, taking a breath. The impossibility of it all washes over him again.

“Mandalore.”

“Yes.” Mereel confirms, knowing that Kote needs to hear it again.

_Manda’yaim_ some part of him whispers half longing half bitter.

That endless _wanting_ for a place that is theirs. Where they exist as more than just a string of numbers and a progress report. It felt like he was a cadet again, dreaming of escaping, of being a _real_ Mandalorian.

Bitter because Kote knows it isn’t as simple as that. The Mandalorians on _Manda’yaim_ probably won’t even see them as _Mando’ade._ They’ll just see clones, toy soldiers, _products._ But that’s okay. Once they are off this planet it won’t matter how the rest of the galaxy sees them. They will have each other. That’s all Kote ever needed.

He takes one more breath.

“Let’s get on it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can pry the idea that Cody's name is actually the bastardized version of his Mando'a name, Kote, from my cold dead hands. Not completely happy with this one, there is a lot of dialogue without much else but it's needed to move things forward and it sets Kote up for a bigger part later. 
> 
> Also I'm traveling the next few days so the next chapter will be a while. I'll catch you all on the flip side and thank you to everyone that leave kudos and comments!


	17. Alpha-17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a words:  
> darasuum dhayc - endless dark  
> mandokar- the right stuff- the epitome of Mando virtue - a blend of aggression, tenacity, loyalty and a lust for life  
> Ni ceta - sorry (lit: I kneel) grovelling apology- rarely used  
> Ni kadala ade an. Ni kyr’amur gar vode. - I've hurt you all. I've killed your brothers. 
> 
> AN: I'm winging it my guys, conjugation? Who's she? If I fuck up somewhere let me know, but most of the time I'm just aiming to get he general meaning across, not exact lol

Jango lets Tavo and Stec fly.

Alpha-17 doesn’t know why that makes him as antsy as it does.

Maybe it’s that along with everything else.

The Prime gave them coordinates, comms the other ships Kal and the rest of their squadron are flying to confirm everyone is on the same page and watches as the Tavo and Stec plan the jumps. When they are safely in hyperspace the man pats them on the shoulder and then heads below for some rack time.

But there is something wrong, something is throwing the Prime off and Alpha knows things like that will get them killed. Kal’ _buir_ isn’t here so the only one that can reasonably talk to Jango is Alpha.

Fuck.

Spar reaches out and slaps him on the shoulder as he brushes past.

“Be careful. Adopted or not, he’s still the Prime. We’re still clones.” He says in warning. Alpha gives him a nod.

He doesn’t hear the click of a comm unit being stuck to his armor.

Alpha-17 doesn’t know where his audacity is coming from. Doesn’t know any situation what he is about to do would ever be a good idea but –

Something is _wrong_ with the Prime.

Alpha-17 doesn’t delude himself into thinking he will be able to help in any meaningful way, if Jango can’t handle it, there isn’t much that he could do about whatever it is. The most he can do is assess the situation and adjust their tactics accordingly.

He gently taps his knuckles against the door leading to Jango’s quarters, some part of him hoping it was soft enough not to be heard by the man inside.

“Come in.” Is the quiet response, shattering that hope.

The door slides open and Alpha’s eyes land on Jango. He’s on the floor, back to his bunk with his _buy’ce_ off and Alpha can see just how dark the shadows under the man’s eyes are. Alpha’s attention catches on the toy ship Jango is cradling in his lap and something sinks in his gut as pieces start to fall into place.

They had always wondered how many of them were worth one of Boba. Turns out the answer is exactly one-hundred.

Alpha hadn’t known what to say when he walked in and he still doesn’t, so he just sits next to Jango.

The quiet is painful but not because the silence itself. It just hurts.

“Boba is dead.” Jango says at last. His voice isn’t hollow, isn’t resigned or broken. Just tired. They type of tired sleep can’t fix.

“He’s in the _Manda_ now. You’ll see him again.” That’s all Alpha can offer him, just the same hollow consolation he offers to the _vode_ when another one of them disappears into a lab and never comes back.

“No, I won’t, Al’ _ika_. Only _darasuum_ _dhayc_ for me.” It’s said with a sort of weary humor. Alpha doesn’t see anything funny about the idea of wandering the dark alone for eternity. He ignores the endearment and the way it makes his heart twist.

Some part of Alpha is about to deny that Jango is _dar’manda_ , but Alpha isn’t in the habit of lying, and he won’t start now.

If anyone deserved to be _dar’manda_ it was Jango.

Alpha-17 speaks without thinking.

“It should be easy to hate you.”

And some part of Alpha does. It was infuriating. Knowing the person you hate most is the one you would give anything to love you. The rage, the _helplessness_ of knowing he would be nothing without Jango. He felt pathetic, like a dog begging for approval even after a beating. Jango might never have been cruel to them, never beat them like some of the other trainers did to their troops, but Alpha knows Jango’s indifference was its own type of cruelty. One that had killed thousands of his little brothers.

But even after all that, Alpha-17 still can’t hate Jango, and Alpha hates himself for that.

“I wish you would. It would make knowing what I did to your easier.”

Alpha doesn’t know which part of their lives Jango is talking about. Maybe all of it.

“Do you regret it?”

Alpha doesn’t know which part he’s talking about either. Maybe all of them.

“That you were born? No.”

The words make bitter anger flare in his chest right alongside the desperate relief.

Jango has no idea. They might share the same face, but he has no idea what it’s like to be a clone. He won’t ever understand what it’s like to know everything you are is measured and judged against a near imposable standard. Jango was chosen because he was exceptional, but none of them ever will be.

“We weren’t born, we were grown, Sir. We’re just the clones of a _dar’manda_ bounty hunter.” It’s imposable to keep the bitterness out of the words. Alpha doesn’t really try.

As soon as the words are out, Alpha wants to flinch back from the man, sure he’s crossed a line.

But Jango just laughs. It’s a quiet thing, almost gentle. It might be the first time Alpha-17 has ever heard the sound.

“You aren’t _just_ anything, _ad’ika_.”

Jango reaches out and pulls Alpha to his side. Maybe it makes him weak, but Alpha leans into the warmth. Jango’s fingers run over the short hair of his scalp and he leans into that too.

“You, Spar, Maze, Boba. Every one of you. You don’t happen by accident. What you have doesn’t come from a lab.”

Doesn’t it? That’s exactly where they come from. Factory made and quality assured, but when Jango leans over and rests his jaw against Alpha’s crown, he can imagine a world where he is more than just a product.

“When you breath, that’s the universe rotating on its axis. When you speak, that’s what the stars are made of. Every struggle, every step, since the moment your heart started to beat to when it stops, that’s the _Manda_ living in you. You have _mandokar_ , and it comes from _you_ , nowhere else.”

Alpha-17 wishes he could believe Jango.

But he doesn’t.

“You’re such a fucking liar.” He manages to choke out past whatever is trying to strangle him. He tries to pull away from Jango but the arm around his shoulder only curls tighter around him.

“You only care because they killed Boba. You would have let them sell us to the Republic to die and never thought twice about us again.”

Jango still isn’t letting him go and the pain in Alpha’s chest is worse than when he broke his ribs.

“You could have _saved_ us –“

Alpha can’t breathe well enough to spit every vile and hateful thing he can think of at Jango just then, and it infuriates him. He’s going to sit here curled into this bastard’s side and pass out because he can’t inhale past the sob trapped in his chest.

He hates Jango so fucking much but the only thing in the universe he wants right then is for the man to hold him closer.

“Breath, Al’ _ika_. Breath.” Jango sooths, hand running up and down Alpha-17’s back.

Alpha doesn’t _understand_.

He doesn’t understand why Jango hasn’t pushed him away. He doesn’t understand why Jango isn’t mad about the backtalk and insults. He doesn’t understand how the man pulls him close. He doesn’t _understand_.

“I could have saved you, but I didn’t.”

Alpha hates how much it hurts to hear. It’s a simple fact of life, but hearing Jango admit it is the most awful thing in the world.

He tries to speak but the only noise that makes it out of his throat is a pathetic keening. The arms around him tighten more.

_“Ni ceta. Ni kadala ade an. Ni kyr’amur gar vode. Ni ceta, ner ad_. I don’t expect you to forgive me but trust that I will make a place for you in the galaxy where you are seen as more than a thing. _”_ Jango whispers into his temple.

Alpha grits his teeth.

It doesn’t change anything. It won’t bring back everyone the _Kaminnii_ killed but –

Alpha-17 does trust Jango.

That’s going to have to be good enough for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize I haven't really said the ages of the clones but Boba was like 7 ish at the start of this and he was one of the first clone. The Nulls are not far behind that, so physically like 14 for them. The ARC troopers would be a few months younger and then everyone decreasing from there, so a lot of the clones would still be itty bitty like Tup and Dogma. The CCs would be closer to like 12 ish. Idk about actual canon but that's what I'm going with. 
> 
> I really love Alpha-17 tbh, kinda a bastard in canon but understandable in every way lol. I think it would be absolutely awful to hate someone but at the same time want them to love you more than anything which what I think would happen with a lot of the Alpha clones.
> 
> Thank you to everyone for leaving kudos and comments! Sorry I haven't answered a lot of them, I am back home and it's adulting time so I don't have much free time anymore lolol


End file.
